


The Measure of a Man

by Postal_Ninja



Series: The Warrior and the Huntress [4]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fatherhood, Friendship, Game Story Spoilers, No smut before Chapter 5, Olberic-Centric, POV Olberic, Post-Canon, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24884476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Postal_Ninja/pseuds/Postal_Ninja
Summary: After receiving an unexpected letter, Olberic finds himself setting out on a journey to the Highlands, leaving his wife H'aanit and young daughter behind in S'warkii. He does not make this journey for his own sake, yet it will nonetheless push him to contemplate the course that his life has taken, and perhaps, learn who he is as a man.Set two years after the events of'The Meaning of Family', about four years after the beginning of the game. References events from'Someone Strong','For Want of an Axe', and'The Meaning of Family'. Story spoilers for Chapter 4 for Olberic, Primrose, Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa.
Relationships: Cyrus Albright & Olberic Eisenberg, Cyrus Albright/Therese, Olberic Eisenberg & Cecily, Olberic Eisenberg & Ned, Olberic Eisenberg & Philip, Olberic Eisenberg & Phlip's Mother, Olberic Eisenberg & Tressa Colzione, Olberic Eisenberg/H'aanit, Ophilia Clement & Olberic Eisenberg, Primrose Azelhart & H'aanit, Primrose Azelhart & Olberic Eisenberg
Series: The Warrior and the Huntress [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774747
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**_Village of S'warkii_**  
  
  
"What is it, husband?" Olberic's wife H'aanit asked, balancing their daughter B'renit on her hip as she leaned over his shoulder where he sat reading a sheet of paper.

"A letter from Rose," he told her. "It's about Philip..."

"Philip?" she asked worriedly. "Is something amiss?"

"Not exactly..." he replied, unsure how to characterize the contents of the letter. He began to read it to her instead.

"Sir Olberic..." he read.

_I hope this letter finds you well. I write to you on behalf of Philip, though he does not know it. As you may realize, my son will soon turn thirteen. He has grown much since you last saw him in S'warkii, and is becoming a fine young man. I have been preparing him for the Rite of the Guardian, but I fear it is not a mother's place to do so._

_With this milestone ahead of him, Philip regrets his lack of a father. I can see it plainly. I know that you have a child of your own to think of, but could not have lived with myself if I did not ask: Would you consider coming to Cobbleston to lead Philip through the Rite? In the absence of his true father, I know that he would appreciate your presence more than I can say. He looks up to you still, and misses you._

_I hope that I have not overstepped any boundaries by asking this of you. Please forgive me if I have. It is only a mother's love that persuades me to do so._

_Please give my regards to H'aanit. I hope that she and your daughter are both happy and in good health._

_-Rose_

"The Rite of the Guardian?" H'aanit inquired when he had finished reading the letter.

"It is a tradition in the Highlands," he explained, "When a boy turns thirteen, he goes through the Rite and becomes a man."

"At _thirteen?_ " she asked incredulously.

Olberic chuckled. "Yes, I know... but it is only a custom." He continued, "It is nonetheless quite meaningful for the lads who go through it. And it is a boy's father who stands with him when the Rite is performed." He sighed, distraught. "This... must be very difficult for Philip..."

"Then thou must go," H'aanit stated without hesitation.

Olberic turned to her with raised brows.

"But... what of B'renit? What of you?"

"We cannot accompany thee, of course. B'renit be too young, still. We shall remainen here."

"It could be a month before I return... perhaps more. Will the two of you be alright on your own?"

His wife smiled. "We shall missen thee, of course... but I am certain we will be fine."

Olberic shook his head. "I don't know if I like this, dearest. B'renit is only two..." he reached up to take his daughter from his wife, and sat her on his lap. "And with Z'aanta away on the hunt... I would not have you take on so much responsibility on your own. Not for my sake."

H'aanit thought a moment, then a smile lit her face. "In her last letter, did Primrose not tellen us how much she wished to comen to S'warkii for a visit? I need only asken, and I am certain she would be willing to stayen with us whilst thou art gone." She reached over to stroke her daughter's silky hair. "Thou knowest she would do anything for B'renit."

Olberic took a moment to consider her words. It was true that Primrose had fawned endlessly over B'renit when she had last visited shortly after the girl had been born. And she was H'aanit's closest friend. Who better to stay with his wife and daughter in his absence?

"Very well..." he finally agreed. "Write to Primrose and ask, and I will inform Rose that unless our plans go awry, she can count on me to be there for Philip."

H'aanit leaned down to kiss her husband fondly. "I knew that thou wouldst maken the right decision," she said with a smile.

* * *

They happened to be out walking with B'renit on the village green when Primrose arrived in S'warkii. As soon as she saw them, their friend ran over to meet them, her face beaming.

"H'aanit! Olberic!" she called out, laughing. Olberic smiled at the sight of her as she embraced his wife. It was not so long ago that Primrose had been driven by vengeance, willing to commit whatever foul deeds were needed in order to avenge her father's murder. Now, she seemed a different woman almost entirely. He knew that she still bore the emotional scars of her difficult past, but there seemed to be a newfound joy in her since she had begun rebuilding her life. It warmed his heart to see her finally happy. His thoughts were cut short as she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"It is good to see you, Primrose," he told her with a sincere grin.

"And you as ever, my good Sir Olberic," she teased him.

She turned back to H'aanit, who had picked up B'renit and now held her in her arms.

"There's my sweet little B'renit!" Primrose gushed at the toddler. "Do you remember your Auntie Primrose?" The girl eyed her uncertainly, then pressed her face into her mother's chest.

"Oh bless, she's shy, the poor thing..." Primrose laughed.

"Given her time," H'aanit encouraged her friend. "In a day or two, she will be following thee everywhere thou goest."

"How are things in Noblecourt?" Olberic asked. "Won't you be missed while you're here?"

Primrose dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "Revello has everything well under control. Our hard work is paying off at last, and the city is finally free of the last of the Obsidians' influence." She sighed. "And I may be the head of house Azelhart, but even I deserve a break once in a while," she finished with a wink.

"I am glad to hear it," he told her, smiling. "Now, why don't we get you settled in and then we can find ourselves something to eat?"

* * *

The next day, Olberic was preparing to set off on his journey with a heavy heart. Despite everything, he still felt conflicted about leaving H'aanit and B'renit for such a long period of time. He hadn't been away from his daughter for more than half a day at most since she'd been born; the idea of not seeing her blessed little face for weeks was breaking his heart.

H'aanit helped him pack his provisions, making sure that he had everything he would need whilst traveling. "Hast thou decided by which road thou shallst travel?" she asked, putting a full waterskin into his pack.

"I thought I would head east," he replied. "I will take the opportunity to call on Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa on the way. It will be pleasant to see them again."

"Indeed," she answered briskly. "Given them mine and B'renit's love, if thou wilst."

"Of course," he assured her. He watched her as she continued her efficient packing. "H'aanit..." he began.

"Hmm?" she acknowledged without meeting his eyes.

"Look at me," he gently commanded her.

His wife did as he bid, and he saw tears in her eyes that he had suspected would be there. Wordlessly, he pulled her to him and enveloped her in a warm embrace.

He heard her sniffle. "I did not wanten thee to see me weep..." she admitted. "'Twas I who urged thee to go, after all..."

"And I appreciate it, dearest wife," he assured her, stroking her hair. "But it is a sad moment for us both. I, too, wish we need not be parted."

She sighed. "This shall be the longest we haven been apart since having met one another," she reflected. "It will be difficult."

"Just so," he agreed. "But I suppose we will have our reunion to look forward to. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say."

She looked up at him with a half-smile. "I am not certain it be possible for my heart to growen any fonder of thee than it doth already. Lest it be fit to burst."

"Well, in that case, do not let your heart burst on my account," he teased, eliciting a chuckle from her. They lingered in each other's arms for a moment longer, then reluctantly separated.

"Art thou certain thou shouldst not bringen Lieven with thee?" she asked.

"I fear depriving B'renit of his company should result in a tantrum the likes of which we've never seen," he replied, shaking his head. "You know how much she adores him." Indeed, their daughter had been tottering after their family's mountain lion companion since she first learned to walk, and her first word had been "Liev'n". For his part, Lieven was equally fond of her, and protective as well. Olberic did not wish to separate them unnecessarily.

"I suppose thou art right," H'aanit answered reluctantly. "Still I would feelen better knowing thou wast not alone on thy journey."

"Fear not, my love. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he reminded her.

"I know that," she answered with a shake of her head. "But perhaps thou wouldst have liked the company."

"I think, perhaps, traveling alone will be an opportunity for me to enjoy some quiet time," he mused with a smile. As the father of a toddler, it was probably long overdue.

* * *

Olberic prepared to take his leave, with Primrose standing at the edge of the village next to H'aanit, who held B'renit in her arms, ready to see him off. Lieven sat at H'aanit's feet, keeping a close eye on B'renit, as he was oft in the habit of doing. Olberic leaned down to pet Lieven's head affectionately, then stood and took his daughter into his arms. He hugged her close and kissed her soft cheek, breathing in the scent of her baby-fine hair.

"Papa will miss you, little one," he told her, his voice breaking and tears in his eyes. His daughter closed her pudgy arms around his neck and pressed her little face against his lovingly.

He pulled her back and looked into her bright eyes. "I love you, my dearest B'renit," he said with more feeling than he could put into words. "Be good for Mama."

He handed the girl to Primrose, then turned towards his wife. She stepped up to him, her lip trembling, and threw herself into his arms. He sighed and kissed the top of her head, holding her tightly.

After a few moments, they finally looked into each other's eyes, then shared a tender kiss. "I love thee," H'aanit whispered as they parted. "And I you," he offered in return.

Taking a step back, he reached over to B'renit once more and stroked her dark hair. Looking up at Primrose, he laid a hand on her shoulder and implored, "Take care of them for me. Please."

She nodded resolutely. "I will. I promise," she assured him. She then turned her face towards B'renit. "Say goodbye to your papa," she encouraged the girl.

"'Bye, Papa," the toddler muttered uncertainly.

Olberic's heart clenched with sadness at the sound of her tiny voice. Heaving a heavy sigh, he cast one last, longing look at H'aanit, and turned to go.

As Olberic walked away, he heard B'renit's small voice asking "Papa?" and then wailing a final forlorn _Papa!_

Her cries cut at his heart like a dagger, his eyes so full of tears that he could scarcely see the road ahead of him.


	2. Chapter 2

Olberic journeyed through the Woodlands and into the Frostlands, grateful to H'aanit for having packed his cloak once he began traversing the snow-covered landscape. His wife and daughter had been constantly on his mind since the moment he had left them, and as he now approached Flamesgrace, he looked forward to seeing Ophilia's friendly face. Perhaps having someone to talk to would help keep his loneliness at bay.

Making his way towards the imposing Cathedral of the Sacred Flame, he could not help but stand in awe of the splendid structure. Its spires rose high above the city's rooftops, and its stained-glass windows glistened with the light of the setting sun. He pushed the massive double doors open and stepped inside, grateful to see that he was not interrupting a service in session. Approaching an acolyte, he inquired as to where he might find Sister Ophilia, and the man kindly led him to one of the side rooms off the main hall. His escort softly knocked on the door, and gestured for him to enter after a feminine voice called out _Yes?_ in reply.

He opened the door and entered, seeing his friend seated at a writing table, seemingly copying passages from the open book at her elbow. She looked up in curiosity, and her face split into a broad grin as she recognized him.

"Sir Olberic!" she cheerfully called out, rising from her chair. "What a wonderful surprise!" she exclaimed as she made her way over to him. Reaching him, she did not hesitate to put her arms around him in greeting. He returned her embrace, the slight cleric only coming up chest-high against him.

"I am glad to see you again, Ophilia," he smiled, releasing her.

"Likewise," she returned happily. "Is H'aanit with you?" she asked, looking behind him. "How are she and B'renit?"

"They are well, but remain in S'warkii," he answered. "I travel alone."

She must have heard the note of disappointment in his tone, as she looked at him understandingly and ventured, "That must be difficult for you."

"Indeed," he sighed wistfully.

She lay a hand on his forearm. "I can only imagine," she acknowledged sympathetically. She then brightened. "Come," she urged him, "Let us go to the tavern and talk over a drink."

* * *

As they sat in a corner of the Flamesgrace tavern, Ophilia inquired as to what brought him to the city. Olberic explained that he was simply passing through on his way to Cobbleston, and related the situation with Philip.

"I see," the young cleric reflected. "That is very kind of you, Olberic, to be there for him in that way." She smiled. "I can tell he means a lot to you."

"Aye, he does," Olberic confirmed thoughtfully. "And I have not seen him since he and his mother traveled to S'warkii for the wedding. It has been too long... I fear he may think I have forgotten him."

Ophilia laid her hand upon his. "If that is what he thinks, then he will surely realize that he was mistaken when you arrive in Cobbleston for the Rite. Your actions speak to the fact that you care," she assured him.

He smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you, Ophilia. I can always count on you when a kind word is needed."

Her cheeks colored slightly, and she seemed pleased by the compliment.

"What about you?" he asked. "How have you been faring since we last met?"

Ophilia had journeyed to S'warkii after she learned of B'renit's birth, taking upon herself the mission of bestowing Aelfric's blessing onto the child. He and H'aanit had not had much word from her after that visit, and he was curious to see what she had been up to in the interim.

A proud smile tugged at her lips as she pondered the question. "Well..." she began, "His Holiness the Pontiff has suggested that I may be ready to rise within the ranks of the Church. So, I am currently studying in order to ready myself for a new role... as Archbishop Josef's eventual successor."

Olberic's brows rose. "Truly? You are to be an Archbishop?"

Ophilia laughed. "Not right away, of course... it will likely be some time before I reach that position."

"Nonetheless," he encouraged her, "it must be a great honor to be considered worthy of such a role. And an even higher honor in that you will be following in the footsteps of the man who was a father to you."

He saw a flash of hesitation in her eyes at the mention of her father. "Is your sister, perhaps... disappointed... that it was not she who was chosen?" he surmised.

Ophilia sighed. "Perceptive as always..." she murmured. "And you're right. This turn of events has been difficult for Lianna. First, I performed the Kindling in her stead. And now? I am to one day take our father's place within the Church..." She toyed with her cup, circling the rim with her finger, before continuing in a soft voice. "Though I am the adopted one and she is trueborn... she fears that she is the lesser daughter."

Olberic reached over and squeezed her hand. "I am certain that the two of you will find a way past this. Lianna is your sister, and she loves you dearly."

"I know that," she nodded. "But I worry she thinks that she's walking in my shadow. I wonder sometimes whether it would have been better if I had not accepted..."

"Ophilia, listen to me," he bid her. "You cannot hold yourself back in life for fear of your sister's resentment. Lianna must find her own path, and the best thing you can do is to be there for her as she does. Help her step from behind your shadow into the light, in whatever way she sees fit. But first and foremost, be true to yourself."

She looked up at him gratefully. "You are as wise as you are kind, Sir Olberic," she sincerely expressed. "Thank you. I shall take your words to heart."

"I am happy to have been able to help," he assured her. "And congratulations, Ophilia. I am proud of you."

* * *

The next day as Ophilia bid him a safe journey at the road heading out of Flamesgrace, Olberic found himself walking with his head held high and his footsteps lightened. It had in fact done him some good to spend time with a friend, and he took pride in the fact that his advice to Ophilia had been helpful. His sentiment to her had been sincere; he was so very proud of the young woman who had traveled with him years ago, and seeing her accomplishing her dreams brought joy to his heart. He thought of himself at her age, and how hard he had worked to became a knight of Hornburg, how proud he had been once that knighthood was attained. He could see in Ophilia a similar determination to his own, and he knew she would achieve great things.

The Frostlands gave way to the Flatlands as Olberic made his way towards Atlasdam. He was looking forward to calling on Cyrus; curiously, he and H'aanit had not heard from the man since they last saw him at their wedding, save a short note congratulating them on the birth of their daughter. It was not like Cyrus to be brief; he hoped all was well with the scholar.

As he made his way into the city, Olberic wondered whether he was more likely to find his friend at the Academy, or in his apartments. He decided to try the scholar's residence first, as it was late enough in the day for classes to be finished.

He stepped up to Cyrus' door and knocked. A moment later, it opened to reveal a young woman with a familiar face. Olberic was momentarily confused, but greeted her politely.

"Good day to you," he said. "I wonder if Professor Albright might be in attendance?"

"Of course," she cheerfully answered, "please, come in."

"Thank you," he replied, as he followed her inside.

She disappeared into another room and soon returned with Cyrus in tow.

"Olberic?" the man questioned in surprise. "How splendid to see you! Please, my friend, come in, sit down!"

The young woman made to excuse herself. "I should go. I'll see you later, Cyrus," she fondly told the scholar, laying a kiss to his cheek.

"Of course, my dear. Tomorrow, perhaps?" She nodded and turned towards the door, bidding Olberic a good evening on her way out.

As she left, Olberic slowly turned to regard Cyrus, brows raised nearly to his hairline. "It seems some things have changed since we last spoke," he remarked. "Was that not your student? The one who came to your aid in Stonegard?"

"Ah yes," Cyrus nodded. "Though Therese has since graduated and is my student no longer."

Olberic waited, but Cyrus offered no additional information. "And...?" he eventually prompted. "How did it come to be that the two of you...?"

"Ah! Of course," the scholar shook his head, realizing he should explain. "After the graduation ceremony, I invited Therese here to dine with me in order to celebrate her accomplishments. At the end of the evening, I was praising her for her hard work and dedication to her studies, when out of nowhere she just... kissed me." Cyrus shrugged, as if the action had been a total surprise to him. Olberic suspected that it had.

"I must admit I was rather shocked," his friend continued, "But then she claimed that she had been carrying a torch for me for quite some time. Why she never spoke of it before that moment, I do not know..." He shook him head, a look of confusion in his eyes.

Olberic had to hold himself back from bursting into laughter. As it was, the corner of his mouth quirked up of its own volition. Therese's feelings for her professor had been the worst guarded secret of any among their group of travelers. Everyone seemed to know about the girl's affection but her intended suitor himself. Not that she hadn't been conspicuous in her interest; Cyrus was just that oblivious. But Olberic was glad that she had finally realized the need to be blunt if it meant that his friend had found happiness with her.

"I see," Olberic responded, nodding sagely, as if this were all new information to him. "I am glad for you both," he expressed, smiling. "I take it that this new relationship is keeping you busy, then? We have not heard from you much since last we met."

"Hmm?" was Cyrus' initial response. He then elaborated, "No, I should think not. That is quite a recent development, you see. Ah, I suppose if I was neglecting to correspond with you and H'aanit, it was rather because of how busy I have been with my research since unearthing those missing volumes from the Ruins of Eld. And, of course, I have had almost no time to myself since being promoted to headmaster..."

"You've been made headmaster of the Royal Academy?" Olberic asked incredulously. "Cyrus, that is incredible! Congratulations, my friend." He paused, then questioned, "Did you truly not think that fact worth mentioning?"

Cyrus pondered his words, then shook his head. "Forgive me, my friend. I suppose the last few years have been such a whirlwind that it completely escaped my attention to give news to those would care to know of it. I most humbly apologize."

"Think nothing of it," Olberic told the scholar kindly. "I can understand how life takes unexpected turns at times. After all, H'aanit and I have had scarce a moment to ourselves since B'renit was born."

"Yes, and how is your precious daughter?" Cyrus leaned forward to ask. "I can only imagine how chaotic life with an infant must be."

"Infant?" Olberic repeated, bemused. "Cyrus, B'renit is two years old."

"Is she really?" the scholar asked in shock. "Could it have been that long? I..." he sighed. "Olberic, please forgive me. I have been so caught up in my own affairs that I have not even asked the purpose of your visit, and it seems I am long overdue for news of you and your family. Please, let us sit and catch up properly. Can I get you some tea?"

* * *

The two men stayed up talking late into the night. Despite Cyrus' tendency to ramble at length and wax philosophical on a given subject, Olberic found that he truly enjoyed the scholar's company after such a long time apart. He had spent the last two years mainly preoccupied with diapers and naps, and it was a welcome change of pace to have his mind challenged in a way that he was not used to. Indeed, Cyrus was an impressive man in his own right; his dedication to his profession was seemingly without peer, and the way he lived his whole life focused on the calling of academia was laudable. Perhaps his focus was a bit _too_ narrow, all things considered, but it was admirable nonetheless.

When Olberic began to yawn and made as if to head to the city's inn for the night, Cyrus would hear nothing of it. He insisted that Olberic was more than welcome to make use of his spare bedroom, and that he should be no fit friend if he did not offer it as such. Olberic gratefully accepted, and they ended up talking for another hour or so before he finally dragged himself to bed.

He made a late start to his journey the next day, after breaking his fast with Cyrus at the local tavern. The scholar then escorted him to the road leading from the city, clasping his shoulder and wishing him well. Olberic thanked him again for his hospitality and company, then began heading south towards the Coastlands.

He found the cool sea breeze refreshing as he finally approached the port town of Rippletide. He could hear the seagulls' calls and the bustle of the docks even from the town's entrance. His destination nearby, he made his way to the Colzione Family Provisioners' shop. He entered to see Tressa's parents busy behind the counter. Her mother looked up at him and smiled warmly.

"Welcome, good sir. How can I help you today?"

"Good morning," Olberic greeted. "I've come to see Tressa, if she is at home?"

The woman looked at him with a bemused expression until it hit her. "My goodness! Aren't you Sir Olberic? Our Tressa traveled with you some years ago, didn't she?"

He smiled at her. "Aye, that she did," he confirmed. "I was passing through on my way to the Highlands, and thought I would take the time to drop by and see how she is doing."

Tressa's mother beamed at him. "Of course, of course!" she laughed, then turned to her husband. "Olneo, would you be a dear and fetch Tressa?"

"Right away, Marina. I'll only be a moment, Sir Olberic!" he called back as he left the shop.

Marina turned back towards Olberic with a friendly smile. "Please, make yourself at home," she encouraged him. "You're lucky to have caught Tressa on your way; she just so happens to be visitin' us at the moment."

"She no longer lives here?" he asked, puzzled.

"I'm afraid not," his friend's mother sighed. "She's recently moved to Grandport. She has her own stall set up there permanently, you see... but I'm sure she'll tell you all about that herself," she laughed.

Olberic nodded, impressed. He ventured, "It must not be easy for you seeing her set out on her own, I imagine."

Marina's tight smile confirmed his assumption. "Just so... it's never easy for a parent to be away from their child," she sighed, echoing Olberic's feelings about his own daughter. She perked up, then continued, "But her father and I are so very proud of her."

"I can see that you are, and rightly so," Olberic answered kindly.

It was at that moment that he was suddenly accosted by the young merchant herself. Tressa yelled _Olberic!_ gleefully as she ran into the shop and threw herself into his arms. Olberic laughed at his reception, lifting the young woman into the air a moment before setting her back onto her feet.

"What in the world are you doing here?" she demanded to know with a toothy grin, slapping his forearm for good measure.

Olberic began to tell her about his journey, but at that moment a trio of customers arrived and stood perusing the shop's wares. Tressa pulled him by the arm, insisting they should get a drink at the tavern and talk there. She waved at her parents on the way out, and Olberic thanked them and bid them a good day.

Once they had settled down with their drinks at a table, Tressa bombarded him with questions, eager for news of his family.

She listened intently as he told her of H'aanit and B'renit. The young merchant wanted to know all about his daughter; she regretted not having had the opportunity to come and visit them after the girl was born.

"I bet you she's the cutest kid ever, considering how good-looking her parents are," she teased him with a wink.

Olberic laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "She is beautiful, but I assure you, she gets it from her mother."

" _Pfft!_ " was Tressa's undignified response. "You're not so bad yourself. You know, for an old man," she finished with a smirk.

Olberic didn't know whether to scold her or laugh. As it was, he just sputtered something non-committal and blushed.

Tressa laughed at his expression, then assured him, "Oh, come on, Olberic, I'm just teasing you."

"Yes, well, we can't all be twenty-two, Miss Colzione," he remarked. "Enough about me, at any rate," he continued, "Your mother says you're living in Grandport?"

"Mm hm!" the young woman confirmed proudly. "Got myself a nice little setup over there. I've got a permanent stall in the marketplace, and I've made a deal with Captain Leon, too. He sails the seas and brings back treasures for me to sell, we split the income from the sales, and boom! Profit!" Her eyes shone as she described her mercantile endeavors.

Olberic nodded, and he praised her. "That sounds perfect for you. I am glad that you've been able to be so successful on your own, though it comes as no surprise. You are truly a talented merchant if there ever was one."

"Aw, thanks, Olberic!" she replied appreciatively, a winning smile plastered across her face. "And if it keeps going well," she continued, the fire now lit within her, "I'm aiming for a brick and mortar shop. Maybe even a franchise in all the big cities one day!" Her arms swept into the air, as if detailing her imaginary plans.

Olberic grinned at her enthusiasm. "I have no doubt you will accomplish all you set out to do, Tressa," he encouraged her proudly, "You have the attitude and the persistence. You need only continue to work hard and you will surely realize your full potential, in time."

"Shucks, Olberic," she laughed, "You're gonna make me cry!"

They spent the afternoon catching up, Tressa's youthful exuberance coloring her every word, and Olberic found himself laughing to tears at her more outlandish stories. It seemed she had had no shortage of remarkable experiences since he had last seen her. She may have only been teasing him with her earlier comment, but Olberic truly did feel like an old man when faced with Tressa's energy and enthusiasm. He sighed and shook his head at the thought.

"What's the matter?" she inquired, seeing his expression. "I'm not boring you, am I?"

"Never that," he assured her with a laugh. "I am simply thinking back wistfully to my own youth. Hearing of your adventures is making me miss my own, it would seem."

"Maybe, but you've got something better than adventures now, don't you?" she asked him. "You have true love! You have a family! I mean, one day I'd like to have those things too..." she seemed thoughtful. "Isn't that enough?"

Olberic thought of his beloved wife and daughter, knowing that he would never trade them for anything.

"I would do anything for them," he murmured, noting Tressa's soft _Awww!_ , in response. "But I suppose it is occurring to me just how much my life has changed since I've become a husband and father. When all you've ever known changes within the span of a year, it can be somewhat hard to find oneself within that new reality."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, Olberic," she stated confidently. "You're one of the wisest people I know. If you can't find the answer, then no one can."

He smirked. "I am glad that you believe in me, Tressa. It means a lot to me."

"Any time!" she told him with a grin.


	3. Chapter 3

As he prepared to leave Rippletide behind him, Olberic gave Tressa a final warm embrace. She squeezed him tightly, wishing him all the best, and promised him that the next time her travels brought her to the Woodlands, she would make time to visit him and his family. She smiled and waved fervently as he left her behind, and Olberic found that his face mirrored her expression. It was strange to think that, as the youngest in their group and he the eldest, he had sometimes thought of her as a daughter of sorts while they had traveled together. He had a daughter of his own now, but he thought that if B'renit grew up to be anything like Tressa, he would be a proud father indeed.

As he continued his journey, it was not long before he noted the changing terrain indicating his arrival in the Highlands. Climbing rocky hills, he took a moment to appreciate the scenic beauty of his homeland. He had spent his whole life living in the region before relocating to S'warkii to be with H'aanit. Though the Woodlands had their own considerable charms, there was nothing quite like being home. He pressed on, eager to reach Cobbleston and finally see Philip again. The boy had been on his mind ever since the arrival of his mother's letter.

By the time Olberic finally reached the village, he was rather exhausted by the hard pace he had set through the rocky terrain. Was he losing his physical conditioning? It was true that B'renit's needs had not allowed for him to spend much time on his training since her birth... but he hadn't realized just how much his endurance had waned. He would see to it that during his stay in Cobbleston he took the time to practice the sword with the men of the village guard. He was certain that Philip himself would be eager to spar with him as well. He was looking forward to it.

His appearance at the village entrance caused quite the stir, similarly to when he and H'aanit had arrived together for their stay before they had been married. He greeted the watchman and explained that he had come to see Philip through the Rite of the Guardian, and then made his way to the lad's home, pausing to speak with the other villagers he encountered along the way. He hoped they would not decide to throw another feast in his honor; after all, this visit was not about him, it was about Philip.

Reaching the house he sought, he knocked on the door. It opened to reveal Rose, and her eyes filled with relief at the sight of him.

"Sir Olberic!" she exclaimed. "You made it! Philip will be so glad to see you!" She took his hand in both of hers and earnestly thanked him for making the journey.

"You are most welcome, Rose," he told her kindly. "It is my honor to be here for Philip." His eyes searched the room. "Where is the lad?" he inquired.

"Off trainin' with the guard, most like," she sighed wearily. "He's done little else of late." She seemed preoccupied, thinking of her son. "But where are my manners," she added, shaking her head, "you must be tired from your journey. Please sit down. Can I get you somethin' to eat?"

"You have my thanks," he assured her, "but before anything else, I should like to find Philip and let him know I am here. I shall bring him back with me so that we can eat together, yes?"

"Of course," she hastened to agree.

Olberic thanked her again and headed out towards the training yard. As he approached, he recognized Philip sparring with one of the younger men of the guard. He stood back for a moment to watch them. The boy had gained several inches in height since he had last seen him, but Olberic suspected he still had plenty of growing to do. Philip's technique had improved noticeably as well, he noted. He must have been quite dedicated to his training during the time that Olberic had been gone.

Watching him, Olberic was reminded of himself at his age. The lad's drive to develop his sword skills was evident, but there was also a sadness in his eyes. Olberic recognized that look, and his heart ached for the boy.

Finally, he approached the training grounds to make his presence known. The participants did not immediately notice his arrival, but one of the men on the sidelines turned and saw him, calling out his name. The others stopped what they were doing and turned towards him, cheering when they recognized him. Olberic hailed the group with a smile, and made his way among them. Philip looked at him, stunned, his practice sword dropping to the ground. Once the other men had finished giving him their greetings, slapping his back and welcoming him home, Olberic excused himself and approached Philip.

"Sir Olberic..." the boy murmured, confused. "Is it really you?"

"Indeed, lad," he assured him, laying a hand to his shoulder fondly. "It is good to see you."

"But... why are you here?" Philip seemed hesitant. Olberic had half-expected him to run into his arms once he recognized him, and this distant reaction was worrisome.

"I've come because of you, of course," Olberic told him kindly, squeezing his shoulder. "It is nearly time for you to go through the Rite of the Guardian. It would be my honor to stand by your side as you do."

He noted a proud glint in Philip's eyes at his words, but it soon faded and the hesitation returned. He said nothing and instead looked at his feet. Not wanting to push him, Olberic decided to give him time before probing him to reveal what was troubling him. He tried a different tactic.

"I was watching you spar just now. Your skills have improved. I can tell that you have been working hard in my absence."

"I told ya I would, didn't I?" he replied under his breath, then thought a moment, and more loudly answered, "Thank you."

The silence between them stretched out, and Olberic worried at the awkwardness that seemed to have grown between himself and the boy. He would need to tread delicately, it seemed.

"Come, lad," he encouraged Philip, "I have spoken to your mother and she is preparing something for us to eat."

The boy followed him quietly, seemingly lost in thought. Olberic wracked his mind for the right thing to say, but wasn't certain that Philip would be open to hearing his words at the moment.

As they returned to Philip's home, they found that Rose had just finished setting out a meal for them to enjoy together. She busily made sure that everything was in order, fussing over Olberic's plate, ensuring that he had everything he needed. He persuaded her that the meal was beyond satisfactory, thanking her for her kindness. Bereft of anything to fret over, she sat in front of her own plate and began to eat.

A tense silence lingered, until Rose asked Olberic about his journey. Grateful for something to talk about, he related how he had taken the opportunity to visit some friends on the way to Cobbleston. He expressed how much joy he had taken in their company, especially since he had not had the chance to see them much since B'renit's birth. Philip pushed at the food in his plate and said nothing.

Rose regarded her son with concern in her eyes, then turned back to Olberic. "And how are she and H'aanit doin'? I remember when Philip was that age, and he was quite the handful," she smiled in remembrance.

Olberic returned her smile. "They are well. B'renit is beginning to speak, and she was running almost before she learned to walk." He chuckled, thinking of his daughter fondly. Glancing at Philip from the corner of his eye, he thought he saw an edge of bitterness creep into the lad's expression.

Rose laughed. "That's good to hear," she told him. "Children that age are full of wonders. You must bring her to visit us when she's old enough. Don't you agree, Philip?"

The boy seemed to be holding back tears. Breathing in deeply, he softly muttered, "To hell with her..."

" _Philip!_ " his mother immediately reprimanded him, appalled at his words. "How could you say such a thing?! Apologize to Sir Olberic this instant, young man."

"I will not!" the boy shouted harshly. He then rose from his chair hurriedly and ran out the door, his mother calling after him.

Olberic felt numb with shock. Rose seemed mortified, covering her eyes with her hand. It was a moment before she spoke again.

"I'm so sorry..." she began, her voice filled with shame. "I don't know what has gotten into the boy."

"I believe I am beginning to understand it, myself," he told her with a sigh. He rose from his seat. "Do not worry yourself; I will speak to him."

Rose simply nodded, and he saw tears in her eyes. He lay a comforting hand to her shoulder, then turned and left.

He found Philip sitting on the edge of a low cliff overlooking a vegetable field near the edge of the village. Olberic sat down next to him, but did not speak for a moment. He felt the suffocating weight of the silence between them, but wanted to be certain he chose his words wisely.

Taking a deep breath, he admitted, "I believe I have failed you, Philip..."

The boy said nothing, but turned his face towards the ground, sniffling softly.

"These past few years, I have not made enough of an effort to let you know that I still think about you. That I still care..." Olberic confessed guiltily.

Philip turned his resentful gaze towards him. "Do you?" he demanded, then looked away. "I'm not so sure," he accused him. "You have your own child now. You don't need me..." That last was delivered almost in a whisper.

Olberic let out a heavy sigh. Of course. Philip was jealous of B'renit. He found that he could not entirely blame the lad. It must have been hard for him to see his mentor turn his attention towards another child instead of him. Olberic had not meant to let his relationship with Philip deteriorate, but the realities of parenting a young child meant that a connection like the one he shared with the boy was difficult to maintain from afar. He did not think Philip would understand that, however. He would need to take a different approach to fix things with him.

"I can see why you would feel that way," he gently stated. "But I assure you, Philip, that is _not_ the case."

The boy didn't respond.

"You know... I see a lot of myself in you," Olberic told him. "In many ways, we are very much alike."

Philip seemed to take interest in what he was saying, but still maintained his silence.

"Part of the reason I agreed to help you learn the sword when you first asked it of me was that I saw how much you needed someone who could be a mentor to you. I had but one skill, one thing I excelled at... and in teaching it to you, I could, in some ways, fill the role of a father in your life."

"But you're not my real father..." Philip sniffed. "My father's dead," he finished in a flat voice.

"Just so..." Olberic agreed sadly. "I said we were alike... and that is one of the ways in which we are the same."

Philip looked at him, surprised. "Your father died too?"

Olberic nodded. "He and my mother both. I was not much younger than you are now when I lost them."

"So... when you went through the Rite... your father wasn't there?" the boy asked slowly.

"He was not," Olberic confirmed.

Philip seemed thoughtful. "How did that make you feel...?" he asked quietly.

"It was hard," Olberic admitted. "Very hard. But, by then, I was a squire in the court of Hornburg. I had begun training with the knights and was learning what I would need in order to join their ranks one day. When my parents died, these were the men who took me in and saw to my education, my care, and my well-being." He sighed in remembrance. "Not one of them was my father, but they did their best to ensure that I need not feel his absence as keenly as I otherwise might. They stood with me when it was my time to perform the Rite. I saw how proud they were of me in that moment, and it made things easier." Hesitating, he dared to put his arm across Philip's shoulders. The boy did not pull away.

"When I saw your need, it was those knights I thought of. I remembered how important they were to me... and I wanted to be the same for you."

"You were," Philip confessed, tears trickling down his face. "I looked up to you, and wanted to be just like you. But you left..."

Olberic's heart broke at his words, and he held him close.

"And now you have your own family... and you don't have time for me anymore..." Philip sighed.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Olberic asked him gently. "I knew the Rite would be important to you, and so I felt that I should _make_ time to be here, to support you."

"I suppose," Philip conceded.

"I know that I can do better by you, Philip," he told him earnestly. "It is important to me that you do not feel forgotten, such as you did before my arrival today. And though I do have responsibilities to my family, I want to make more time for you." He took a deep breath before continuing, "When I return home, I shall speak to H'aanit and see how we might arrange to spend more time in Cobbleston in the future."

Philip's eyes brightened as he looked at him. "You mean it? Truly?"

"I do," Olberic confirmed, "I promise."

The boy's eyes were momentarily filled with happiness, but then he suddenly looked crestfallen. "I..." he began sheepishly, "I'm sorry for what I said about B'renit..."

Olberic squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "I knew you did not mean it, and so I forgive you."

Philip sighed in relief.

"I do look forward to you meeting her, you know," Olberic told him. "Because you are both important to me... and because, trust me Philip, she will adore you."

"You think so?" the lad asked with a smile.

"Oh, I am certain of it," he laughed. "You will have the opportunity to see how it feels to have someone look up to you, once the two of you meet."

Philip's chest puffed up, and his eyes glowed with pride.

"Come," Olberic encouraged him, rising, "We should return. Your mother will be worried."

Philip rose, and hesitating, leaned forward to hug him. "Thank you, Sir Olberic."

Olberic held him against his chest, letting out a sigh, and with it any remaining tension he had been carrying since his arrival. "You are most welcome, lad."

* * *

After their honest dialogue, Olberic was pleased to see that he and Philip were seemingly no longer at odds with one another. He was relieved that no lasting harm had been done to their relationship, despite his unintentional neglect of the boy.

In fact, over the coming days, the two of them spent nearly every waking moment together, either practicing swordplay or discussing the Rite. Olberic did his best to explain to Philip what the ceremony entailed, and described what would be expected of him. It was not an overly complex custom, only requiring the participant to make a series of vows to the warrior god Brand, swearing that he will serve as protector to his people to the best of his abilities. The lad's father (Olberic, in Philip's case) would then symbolically present a sword to him, thus granting him the tool to become a guardian to those in need. Often the sword would only be used for the ceremony and was not kept by the boy, or if a genuine blade was not available, a wooden one would be fashioned just for the occasion. But Olberic had something different in mind.

The day of Philip's thirteenth birthday soon arrived, and the lad seemed to be torn between showing his excitement and trying to carry himself with a bearing befitting a man. It seemed he took his coming-of-age quite seriously. Olberic decided to indulge him, making sure to avoid treating him like a child as best he could. After all, he could remember having acted in a similar way himself, at that age.

Rose had prepared some of the usual traditions one would expect when celebrating a loved one's birthday; a few gifts, a hearty meal, and some favorite sweets to round out the occasion. Olberic was invited to dine with them and celebrate, and he was amused by the contrast of Philip's behavior when it came time to receive his gifts. It was apparent that, despite the seriousness with which he regarded the Rite, Philip was in his heart still very young. He excitedly unwrapped each parcel, eager to see what awaited him inside.

The first was a fine deck of cards, made of thick, quality paper. The lad looked up at Olberic with a smile and asked whether they could play a few hands together. Olberic assured him that he would love to, and they could make time for it on the morrow. A second, larger parcel contained a pair of cloaks, lovingly sewn by Rose herself. The first was made of thick green wool with a fur-lined hood, and the second of a more light-weight dark blue woolen. Rose explained to her son that he was now old enough to begin traveling on his own, and so she had chosen to give him both a winter and summer cloak, so he would be prepared no matter the weather. Philip jumped up to hug his mother, thanking her profusely.

After the lad had returned to his seat, he looked over at Olberic questioningly. "Didn't you get me a gift, Sir Olberic?" he asked innocently, to which his mother warned _Philip_ sharply.

"It's alright, Rose," he dismissed with a laugh. "Indeed, lad, I did. However, I will give it to you at a later time."

The boy huffed, disappointed that he would need to wait. He perked up again when Olberic reminded him that it was nearing sundown, and the time for the Rite of the Guardian to be performed was fast approaching. The lad put on his best dignified expression and declared himself ready.

Olberic told Philip to prepare himself and that he would meet him there. He first needed to stop and pick something up from his house.

When he arrived to the area just outside the village where the Rite was to be completed, Olberic saw that Headman Garrett already awaited them, torches lit to either side of him and an old, worn book in his hands. Olberic approached him, and they spoke in hushed tones about Philip and the milestone he was about to partake in. The old man reminisced fondly about his own memories participating in the Rite, and mused that performing it for the village youths always reminded him of the vows he had taken that night, and the significance with which he had regarded them.

The two men ceased their retrospection at Philip's arrival. The lad wore his new, dark blue cloak proudly. It suited him well, Olberic thought.

"You may approach, Philip," the headman encouraged him kindly. The boy did as he was bid, his face solemn. Olberic stepped forward to stand at Philip's side, a proud smile on his face.

Headman Garrett opened his book and began speaking the words of the Rite of the Guardian. He spoke to Philip of the responsibilities of adulthood, and asked whether he was prepared to undertake them. "I am," the lad answered earnestly.

Next, he invited Philip to speak his vows to the god Brand. The boy recited them in an even voice, without stumbling. Olberic knew that he had been practicing the words each night before bed, and had long since committed them to memory.

The vows delivered, it was now time for Olberic to play his part. The headman called him forward, and Olberic stood before Philip, regarding the lad with pride. He lifted a scabbard hung at his side and pulled an old but well-maintained sword free from it. Holding it before him, he spoke.

"My son," he intoned, "I now bestow upon you this blade, that you may use it as a champion of justice, in protection of those who cannot protect themselves, and to never raise it in anger or to selfish ends. Like Beowulf before you, you shall be a guardian to those in need. Do you accept?"

"I do," Philip answered fervently.

Olberic placed the sword reverently into the young man's outstretched hands, and bent down to deposit a kiss upon his forehead. Rising, he continued: "You are a boy no longer, and now stand before me as a man. May you remember your vows spoken this day so long as you carry this blade, and keep them in your heart until the day your sons speak them in turn. May you walk with Brand's blessing."

Philip's sedate expression cracked under the weight of his pride, and a sincere grin split his face. Olberic winked at him, and stepped back to stand beside him once more.

Headman Garrett then spoke the words that would end the ceremony, and offered Philip his heartfelt congratulations. The lad thanked him, and he and Olberic began making their way back to the village.

"So, how do you feel?" Olberic asked Philip.

He thought a moment, then answered, "Taller..."

Olberic laughed and put his arm around the youth's shoulders.

When they reached his house, Philip made as if to hand Olberic back his sword, but Olberic stopped him, telling him instead, "No, lad. That blade is yours now."

"It is?" Philip asked incredulously.

"I said I had a gift for you. This is it," Olberic explained, grinning. "This was my first sword. It has been many years since I last wielded it, but I kept it all this time because of the memories it held for me. But now, I want you to have it." He unhooked the scabbard from his belt, and handed it over to Philip.

The lad was speechless, and simply admired the blade he held in his hands. He sheathed it in its scabbard, then threw his arms around Olberic, embracing him tightly.

"Remember to take care with it," Olberic reminded him. "Do not forget your training. A sword is a weapon, and should be treated as such."

"I will, I promise," came Philip's muffled reply as he continued to hug Olberic. "Thank you, Sir Olberic. Thank you so much!"

"There is no need to thank me, lad..." Olberic answered. This night, he thought, and their renewed connection was more than thanks enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Olberic stayed in Cobbleston a few days longer, taking the opportunity to continue training with Philip and the village guard. It was not that he had forgotten the art of wielding a blade, but he was conscious of the fact that his skills had perhaps begun to decline with disuse. It was thrilling having an opportunity to fight again, even if it wasn't in the heat of a pitched battle. He went to bed at night with sore muscles, but was nonetheless pleased with the exertion.

But upon waking each morning alone in his house, he could not help but think longingly of his wife and daughter waiting for him in S'warkii. Though he was loathe to leave Philip again, he knew that it was time for him to return.

And so, he made his goodbyes to the villagers, and prepared to set out once more. On the morning of his departure he stood on the edge of the road leading out from Cobbleston accompanied by Philip and Rose, who had come to see him off.

Rose gave him a warm embrace, earnestly thanking him for all he had done for Philip. "You've given me my son back," she whispered, overcome with emotion. He assured her that it was the least he could do, and that he was more than happy to have helped Philip through this difficult time. She stepped back, wiping tears from her eyes, as her son approached him.

Olberic pulled Philip into his arms and held him tightly. "Remember, lad," he told him, "this is not goodbye. Though I may not always be here for you, you are never far from my thoughts." He took the young man's face in his hands and looked him in the eyes. "Never think yourself forgotten. You mean more to me than you know, and I shall do my best to make sure that you remember that from now on."

Philip nodded resolutely. "I won't forget." He hugged Olberic once more. "Thank you for everything, Sir. I'll make you proud."

Olberic released him, and lay a hand to his shoulder. "I am proud already," he assured him sincerely.

Tears in both their eyes, Olberic cast one last look at Philip and nodded, then turned to go.

* * *

Bittersweet though their parting was, Olberic felt a renewed sense of purpose after his time in Cobbleston with Philip. He had accomplished what he had set out to do; he had rekindled a relationship with the lad, and had been there for him when he came of age, guiding him through the Rite in the absence of his father. He felt certain that Philip now understood that he was important to Olberic, despite the distance between them. He looked forward to returning to his family more than he could say, but he did not regret his decision to set out on this journey. Philip's gratitude had been worth it.

Olberic took the western path to return to S'warkii. He wanted to take the opportunity to stop by Clearbrook and Bolderfall on his way, that he might have the chance to see Alfyn and Therion as well. He traveled first through the Sunlands, finding this part of the journey difficult on his own. As he slogged through the heat and sand, he reminded himself that he was heading home to his family. He thought of B'renit's happy smile, eager to see her again. He wondered if she had grown much in his absence.

He was reminded of when he and H'aanit had traveled this road together, before they were married. Even then, he had been hopelessly in love with her. He recalled those early days in their relationship, when they had been unable to keep their hands off one another, making love every chance they had. He looked forward to their reunion, and was planning on relighting that earlier passion at the first available opportunity.

His journey took him into the Riverlands, again summoning visions from his and H'aanit's past. It was here that they had been attacked by a fearsome beast, and Olberic had been wounded. As he arrived in Clearbrook, he was overcome with the memories of this place. They had spent Olberic's convalescence here, waiting for his injury to be healed before continuing on to S'warkii. It had been a happy time for them, and they had grown even closer after their ordeal. He recalled the moment in which he had stepped in front of H'aanit to protect her from attack, and how it had been the catalyst for him to realize the depths of her importance to him. It had been in Clearbrook that he had decided to ask her to marry him.

Overcome with memories, Olberic's fond smile would not leave his face as he sought out Alfyn, eager to reconnect with his friend. He soon learned, however, that the young apothecary had left on a journey of his own, to offer his skills to a village struck by sickness in the Frostlands. Olberic regretted that he would not be able to spend time with the man, but was nonetheless pleased to have made a visit to the place where he and H'aanit had cemented their relationship.

He journeyed on, eventually reaching the mountainous Cliftlands. The steep climb left him winded, and once again he cursed himself for letting his endurance diminish. He would need to make more time for training upon his return; after all, if their home were to be attacked, he would want to be in a position to defend his family.

Arriving in Bolderfall, he inquired after Therion, in the hopes that he could at least successfully visit with one more of his former companions before he returned to S'warkii. Alas, it seemed that Therion was not present either. Olberic was not entirely surprised; though the cliffside town was where they had met him, the thief did not always call the place home, and he was a wanderer at heart. Disappointed, Olberic decided to nonetheless spend the night there before continuing on. He checked in at the inn, leaving his belongings in his room, then made his way over to the tavern to relax for the evening.

Upon entering the alehouse, he unexpectedly noted two familiar faces. There, sitting together at a table and sharing a drink, were the tournament promoter Cecily and her fighter companion Ned. It seemed he would have the opportunity to reconnect with old friends after all.

Olberic approached their table with a smile, and called out a greeting. The two looked up, evidently surprised to see him.

"If it ain't the Unbendin' Blade o' Hornburg himself!" Ned exclaimed with a grin. Cecily gave Olberic a lopsided smile, and there was a gleam in her eye.

"Sir Olberic..." she began. "Fancy meeting you here. What brings you to Bolderfall?"

Olberic sat and joined them. "I was journeying to the Highlands, but am now returning to my family in S'warkii."

"Aye," Ned replied, "that reminds me, though 'tis long overdue, I've got to congratulate ye on yer weddin'!"

"My thanks," Olberic beamed, then he looked puzzled. "I take it you received the invitation, then? I was disappointed that the two of you did not choose to attend..."

Ned turned his gaze towards Cecily, an odd look in his eyes. "Aye, we received it..." he said pointedly.

Cecily cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Olberic, but a tournament promoter's job is never done, and we just didn't have the time to make it to the wedding." Ned scoffed softly.

Olberic suspected that there was more to the story, but did not wish to press them. "I understand," he simply told them instead. "Though H'aanit and I would have welcomed your presence, it was a wonderful day regardless."

"Think I remember H'aanit," Ned mused, "Lovely girl, she was. And strong, from the looks of 'er."

"Indeed, she is both," Olberic agreed with a smile. Cecily looked down at her flagon, and said nothing.

Sensing some tension in the air, Olberic quickly changed the subject. "And what brings the two of you here?"

Cecily perked up at his words. "Well, this year's tourney is coming up soon. And I'm looking for a new champion to sponsor. Someone who can come in and sweep the competition!" Her eyes were alight with passion as she spoke.

Olberic looked at Ned curiously. "I take it you yourself are not fighting, then?"

"Nay," Ned replied, shaking his head. "My wounds never did heal proper. 'Fraid my tourney days are over," he sighed.

"I am sorry to hear that," Olberic commiserated.

Cecily tilted her head at him. "I don't suppose you'd consider coming back? I know there's no one else who could match your skills," she praised.

Olberic shook his head. "I'm afraid my skills may not be quite what they used to be. I have had little time for swordplay in the last few years," he admitted.

Cecily ignored his objections. "Still, a man like you doesn't forget how to wield a blade. It's a part of you," she stated firmly. "You'd have time enough to work yourself back into shape before the tourney. What do you say?" She looked at him expectantly, a grin on her face.

Olberic sighed. "I suppose my tournament days are behind me as well. I have a family to look after now; a young daughter to raise." He met her eyes regretfully. "I am sorry, Cecily, but you will need to keep looking."

She huffed, and took a swig of her drink. She seemed disappointed, and Olberic regretted that this reunion could not be a happier one.

Not wishing to dwell on the topic, Olberic instead called over to the barkeep, offering to buy the two of them a round. Ned lifted his now empty mug in thanks, and Cecily continued moping.

He sat with them for a time, and they returned to catching up with each other. Cecily did not speak much, but resumed her drinking at a more hurried pace. Olberic hoped she was able to hold her ale, given how much she was consuming.

Though the night was still young, Olberic soon decided to turn in. He wanted to make an early start on the morrow, and did not wish to indulge in too much drink and risk waking with a headache. He expressed to Ned and Cecily that it had been good seeing them again, and bid them a good night. Ned concurred, thanking him for the drinks, and Cecily simply nodded. Olberic then excused himself.

As he returned to the inn, Olberic could not help but wonder at Cecily's demeanor. He understood that when he had fought under her colors and won, it would have brought her much status as a promoter. Surely, she was still able to draw in top fighters from that reputation? It had only been a few years, after all.

Once he reached his room, Olberic began preparing himself for sleep. He removed his boots and shirt, and quickly freshened himself up at the washstand. As he was about to continue undressing for bed, a knock came at the door. Puzzled, he stood to answer it.

When the door opened, he saw Cecily standing at his threshold. Her eyes took in his bare chest, and she blushed.

"Cecily. Forgive me," he began, reaching for his shirt. "I was just preparing for bed."

"No, no," she hastened to reply, "don't feel the need to dress up on my account." Her voice held a curious note to it, and Olberic pulled his shirt back on regardless.

Her eyes showed a hint of disappointment. "Well?" she asked. "Can I come in?"

"Yes, of course," Olberic told her, quickly stepping aside.

She slipped into the small room, taking a moment to look around. She noted his boots on the floor, and his pack next to them. Her eyes lingered on the bed, and she sat down on its edge.

"How can I help you?" Olberic asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the way her eyes swept across him.

"I thought I'd try to change your mind," she stated. "Come. Sit with me," she bid him, patting the bedside where she sat. Against his better judgment, Olberic did as she asked.

"Do you remember the moment when you won the tourney, Olberic?" Her eyes took on a look of longing as she reminisced. "The crowd cheering and calling out your name... your opponent acknowledging you as the better fighter... Don't you want to experience that again? Think of the glory!"

Olberic shook his head. "It was never about glory, Cecily. The tournament, for me, was a means to an end. I defeated Gustav so that he would tell me what I needed to know."

"It may have started that way," she ventured, "but can you honestly tell me that you didn't _enjoy_ it as well?"

Olberic said nothing. Of course, fighting in the tournament had been thrilling. He always felt a sense of satisfaction from crossing swords with an opponent. And if he hadn't been so focused on gleaning Erhardt's whereabouts from Gustav, perhaps he would have regarded the experience with more significance.

"I can see it in your eyes, Olberic," Cecily told him. "You miss it." She was bold enough to lay her hand atop his. "I know your kind. You're a man of action. You can't be content just... playing house, can you?"

Olberic's eyes flashed, and he pulled his hand from her grasp. "I would thank you not to speak of my family that way," he warned.

"I'm sorry," she said, though she did not sound as remorseful as perhaps she should have. "But you've got to admit that fighting's in your blood. I've seen it, remember. When you stood on the tourney grounds with your sword in hand... Olberic, it was _magnificent_."

She scooted closer to him, caught up in what she was saying. "You owe it to yourself to consider my proposal," she said fervently, her gaze locked on his eyes. "Don't forget who you are, Olberic. And if you won't do it for yourself... won't you do it for me?" The intensity in her eyes reached a breaking point, and before he knew it, she had wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face towards hers and kissing him.

Olberic was so shocked that it was a moment before he disengaged from her. He took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her away. "Cecily..." he began, "I am a married man..."

"H'aanit doesn't need to know," she whispered, and leaned towards him again.

He pushed her away again, more forcefully this time. "Cecily, enough!" he growled, standing from the bed and stepping away from her. "If you think me the kind of man who would be unfaithful to his wife, then you truly do not know me at all."

She stood, fire in her eyes. "It seems that maybe I don't," she retorted acidly. "Because I was under the impression that you were a warrior, a man who would stand before the world and _prove_ his strength." She eyed him up and down, bitterness playing across her features. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe being married to that woman has made you soft," she accused disgustedly.

Olberic took one step towards her, his eyes blazing with anger. "Take care how you speak of my wife, girl," he cautioned her tightly.

Cecily smirked at him. "There it is. There's that fire I knew was inside you," she bitingly observed.

Olberic was nearly shaking with rage. He kept himself together by the thinnest of threads, and stomped over to the door, holding it open.

"Get out," he commanded harshly.

Cecily did as he told her, holding his eyes with her gaze as she walked past him, her expression inscrutable. Olberic slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

* * *

Olberic lay awake throughout most of the night, thinking of what had happened with Cecily. When his rage had subsided, he had found that hurt was left in its place. He had thought Cecily a friend, but she had disrespected his marriage and tried to manipulate him to her own ends. He felt used... and betrayed. He had accused her of not knowing him, but it seemed that he, in turn, hadn't known her as well as he had thought either. He tossed and turned, rolling over in bed with a sigh. It seemed he wouldn't be well-rested for his journey after all.

When he woke the next morning, bleary-eyed and bone-tired, he knew that the little rest he had gotten would need to be enough. He had no desire to stay in Bolderfall a minute longer than he had to. He rose and dressed himself, then began packing up his things once more.

He was nearly ready to vacate his room when he heard a soft, hesitant knock at the door. He opened it distrustfully, as he suspected he knew who he would find on the other side. He was right; Cecily was again at his door.

He prepared to impatiently ask what she wanted, but then she looked at him and he noted her dejected expression and red-rimmed eyes. Evidently, she had been crying. Olberic decided to instead wait her out and let her make the first move.

She looked down in shame, then took a deep breath. "Olberic..." she began, "I fear I owe you an apology." She bit her lip, and glanced up at him. "May I come in? Please...?" Her voice was small as she pleaded with him.

The tension in his shoulders dissipated, and Olberic stood aside to let her enter. He shut the door and stood next to it. He would give her the benefit of the doubt, but if this was a ruse to try and seduce him again, he wouldn't hesitate to walk away and never look back.

Cecily stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room, seemingly gathering her thoughts. Finally, she found her voice.

"What happened last night..." she began, "I... I was a fool," she finished in a rush of breath. "I'm a woman who isn't accustomed to rejection, and so when you spurned my advances, I reacted... rather poorly."

Olberic scoffed. "That is quite the understatement, but yes... yes, you did."

Cecily looked abashed. "I may have had one too many pints at the tavern and- no..." she faltered, shaking her head. She sighed, then continued, "I can't blame this on the ale. I knew what I was doing."

She looked into his eyes, and he could see her sincerity. "I had no right to speak to you that way, Olberic. I want you to know that I'm ashamed of myself, and that I'm sorry. I wish I could take it all back."

He slowly nodded. After a moment, he took a deep breath and answered her. "I accept your apology," he stated levelly. He was still uncertain, but he would let her speak her peace. However, one thing continued to nag at him; "But why the seduction? Was it all an attempt to manipulate me into being your tourney champion?"

She shook her head, then chuckled wryly. "No, I'm afraid that was genuine," she conceded, her cheeks coloring. "I confess that I've been... well, interested in you since we first met in Victors Hollow." Her gaze lingered on the floor as she admitted her feelings for him.

Olberic was surprised. Surely a young woman like her couldn't possibly have carried a torch for him all this time.

"Cecily," he shook his head, "even were I unwed, surely I am too old for a woman your age."

She looked up at him, doubtful. "Your wife is younger than you, isn't she?"

"She is," he conceded, "and you are younger than her still."

"Ah," Cecily admitted with a twist of her lips. "A fair point."

Olberic thought a moment. "Is that why you didn't come to the wedding?" he asked, remembering how uncomfortable she had seemed when they were discussing it at the tavern.

One corner of her mouth lifted and she nodded. Now Olberic understood. She had been hurt that he had chosen another woman instead of her, and that was why she had been distant towards him. That didn't excuse her behavior from the previous night... but he could see how much she regretted her actions.

"I am glad that you explained your side of things. Now, at least, I understand why you acted as you did." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I admit, I feared I had misjudged you, and that you were simply someone who I should not have considered a friend. I know, now, that that is not the case."

She sighed in relief, and joined him on the bed, though she sat at a respectful distance this time. "So, you forgive me?" she asked hesitantly.

"I forgive you," he confirmed, a small smile on his lips.

She seemed genuinely happy to hear those words, her eyes filled with relief. Suddenly, she laughed. "Gods, I really did make an ass of myself, didn't I?"

Olberic made a show of considering her words, and finally conceded, "That is one way of saying it, yes." He smiled to show that he was teasing her.

She groaned in embarrassment and put her head in her hands. Olberic laughed, and briefly squeezed her shoulder encouragingly.

Once she'd gotten over her awkwardness, she looked up at him again. "You're a good man, Olberic. Too good for the likes of me," she concluded.

She was thoughtful again, then offered, "I want you to know, though, that I did mean what I said about you being a warrior. I truly do see something special in you when you're fighting. And I'm not just saying that to persuade you to come back to the tourney.

If you ever decide to compete again, you'll have my full support. But if that's not what you want... then I respect your decision."

Olberic smiled. He had not thought this morning that he would ever think of Cecily as a friend again, and he was relieved that it need not be so. "I appreciate your faith in me," he told her, and assured her he would think upon it.

After that, they made their goodbyes, and he asked that she pass on his well-wishes to Ned. Feeling decidedly better than he had when he awoke that morning, he set out on the road out of Bolderfall.


	5. Chapter 5

As Olberic made his way home, he thought about all that had happened on his journey. He had not made it for his own sake, simply wishing to be supportive of Philip, but it seemed he had gained some much needed perspective nonetheless. He continued his self-reflection as he made his way through the Woodlands, and as he neared S'warkii, his need to be reunited with his family was becoming nearly intolerable. When he finally reached the road into the village, he was almost giddy with excitement.

As he turned the corner towards his house, he saw that H'aanit and Primrose sat outside with B'renit playing at their feet and Lieven laying nearby on the grass. The sight of his wife and child almost stopped him in his tracks. He was struck as if with the force of a mace by just how much he _loved_ them both. H'aanit was so beautiful... he had never seen anyone so stunning as she. And his sweet daughter B'renit... she was beyond precious to him, and such a joy to behold. His emotions nearly overtook him, and with tears in his eyes, he hurried his steps to go and meet them.

H'aanit looked up as he approached, her eyes widening at the sight of him. "Olberic..." he thought he heard her murmur. A moment later, she stood and ran towards him crying _Olberic!_

He rushed to meet her, and swept her into his arms, spinning her around before setting her back onto her feet. She clung to him tightly, and he could not tell whether she was laughing or weeping; he suspected both.

He pulled back to look into her eyes, caressing her face with his hands as she smiled at him seemingly with her whole heart. They shared a loving kiss, reunited at last, until Olberic heard a tiny voice asking, "Papa?"

Releasing his wife, Olberic looked down to see his daughter making her way towards him, her eyes big and uncertain. He laughed as tears trickled down his face, kneeling down to her level. "Yes, dearest," he assured her, "Papa is home."

She ran into his arms, and he squeezed her as tightly as he dared. Standing up with B'renit still clutched to his chest, he reached for H'aanit and pulled her into their embrace, the three of them reveling in their reunion. Olberic had been waiting for this moment so fervently that it almost seemed like a dream now that it was upon him.

Primrose soon approached him as well, with Lieven following at her side. "Welcome home!" she expressed with a broad smile, putting an arm around his back. Lieven rubbed his face against Olberic's leg frantically, demanding his attention. Olberic laughed, and took a moment to greet the juvenile mountain lion properly, lavishing him with caresses that Lieven eagerly accepted.

As soon as Olberic had himself settled in, the five of them gathered at the common room of the village inn to share a meal and hear of his journey. B'renit sat on his lap playing with her food and babbling happily, while H'aanit was seated next to him so they need not be far from one another. Primrose, across the table from him, peppered him with questions, wanting to know all about his travels.

He began by telling of his stops along the way to Cobbleston, and how he had been lucky enough to visit with three of their former comrades. H'aanit and Primrose eagerly listened to the news of their friends, expressing how much they wished they had been able to see them as well.

He was about to move on to his arrival in the Highlands when Primrose stopped him with a raised hand. "Wait, wait..." she interrupted, "That can't be all. I mean, I'm happy to know that everyone's careers seem to be advancing, but didn't you happen to hear anything... juicier, perhaps?"

"Primrose," H'aanit chided her friend, "Olberic doth not be one for gossip. Leaven him be."

But Primrose would not be deterred. She narrowed her eyes at Olberic, who tried to maintain a mask of innocence. He evidently failed at this, as she suddenly grinned triumphantly and declared, "Ah ha! There _is_ something, isn't there?" She leaned in, commanding him, "Tell me, Olberic."

Olberic sighed, but he could not help but smile as well. Once Primrose had caught the scent of her quarry, there was no dissuading her.

"Very well..." he reluctantly agreed, "though it is not my place to speak of it... It would seem that Cyrus has found himself with a romantic partner."

Primrose was stunned. "Wait... _Cyrus?_ " she asked incredulously.

Olberic nodded smugly.

"Who?" she demanded to know, " _How?_ "

"Apparently young Therese was finally able to make him see that she was interested in him," Olberic revealed, shrugging.

Primrose burst out laughing, H'aanit joining her in her mirth. "Well..." Primrose said, wiping tears from her eyes, "I'm not sure how the girl managed to get it through his thick head, but I'm glad she did. It was about time he had something to think about other than his books."

They were just finishing their meal when H'aanit noted that B'renit was beginning to rub her eyes sleepily and suggested they return home so that the toddler could have her afternoon nap. Olberic agreed, and rose with his daughter in his arms.

Once the girl was sleeping, the adults sat together so that Olberic could quietly continue telling his tale. Stroking Lieven's ears, who had not yet left his side, he began to tell of what had awaited him when he arrived in Cobbleston. H'aanit's face fell as he spoke of the state in which he had found Philip, her heart seeming to break at hearing of the lad's pain.

"Poor Philip..." she expressed sorrowfully. "I suppose it hath been difficult for him being away from thee for so long."

Olberic reached over to rub her back soothingly. Not wanting her sadness to linger, he spoke of how he had managed to repair his relationship with the boy. Her eyes brightened upon hearing of it, and by the time he began to relate the events of the Rite of the Guardian, her smile was lighting up her face.

"I still think thirteen be too young to be considered an adult..." she admitted, shaking her head.

Olberic noted the look in Primrose's eyes at H'aanit's words. He knew that, at that age, their friend had borne witness to her father's murder, then been sold into prostitution not long after that. The shadow behind her hooded gaze spoke of the pain that still lingered there, but she quickly shook it off, and her smile returned. He briefly wondered whether her newfound bubbly personality was just for show, a mask to hide her pain. He truly hoped that was not the case.

His thoughts were interrupted as B'renit loudly made it known that she was awake. H'aanit rose to retrieve her daughter, then brought her back over to sit with them. Suddenly, Primrose brightened, and offered, "Why don't you let me take her?"

H'aanit handed the child over to her friend, and B'renit cuddled up against Primrose fondly. Olberic was pleased to see that his daughter had, in fact, taken a shine to her 'Auntie Primrose' after all.

The former dancer stroked B'renit's dark hair, and observed, "You two have been apart for a long time." Her lips curved into a smirk, and she continued, "So I was thinking... why don't I take B'renit and Lieven out for a long, leisurely stroll? That way the two of you can have a bit of time alone?"

Olberic looked at H'aanit, who blushed as she returned his gaze. She seemed as eager as he was for the opportunity to be alone together.

"That soundeth like a wonderful idea. Thanken thee, Primrose," H'aanit said with a telling smile.

She rose to help her friend gather up whatever supplies B'renit might need, diapers, a change of clothes, something to eat, and pack all of it into a satchel.

Primrose bid them enjoy their time together as she stepped out the door with B'renit in her arms, Lieven at her heels, and the satchel hanging from her shoulder.

As the door shut behind them, Olberic and H'aanit were already in each other's arms. Mouths pressed together eagerly, their passion became almost instantly ignited. They hurriedly began undressing one another in between ardent kisses, backing themselves towards the bed. Olberic's legs hit its edge as H'aanit pushed him towards it, and they both toppled onto the mattress, laughing.

She climbed onto him, pulling at the laces of his trousers hastily. When a stubborn knot would not come loose, she groaned in frustration and, to Olberic's surprise, pulled out her pocket knife from within her tunic to deftly cut the offending lace free. He found the action startlingly arousing, and felt himself grown almost painfully stiff against the fabric of his trousers, which H'aanit was now promptly pulling down from his hips. As she freed his manhood from its confines, he found that he could not bear her being quite so clothed, and so he pulled impatiently at her tunic, urging her to shed it. She obliged, yanking it off and revealing her breasts, her nipples notably erect. Olberic moaned, and the instant they were sufficiently naked, urged her to mount him where he lay on the bed. She was blessedly quick to do so, grasping his erection and smoothly lowering herself onto it.

They both moaned in tandem as they came together for the first time in weeks. H'aanit wasted no time and began riding atop him urgently. Olberic grasped at her breasts, her hips, her thighs, whatever part of her was within reach. She was remarkably wet considering that they had been fully dressed only moments ago. Damn, but she was a goddess, Olberic thought to himself admiringly.

H'aanit's cries of passion were music to his ears. He was nearly losing his mind watching the way she was wantonly rocking back and forth astride him, and the feel of her inner muscles squeezing his manhood was pure bliss. He found that he wanted to hear her scream in ecstasy more than he had ever wanted anything. He reached between her thighs and began rubbing at her resolutely. She cried out, and he moaned loudly in response. She thrusted her hips towards his hand, indicating her need for him to continue. As he stroked her firmly, she arched her back, leaning into his caresses. Her head lolled back, and soon her full-throated cries of bliss rewarded his efforts. He watched her as she rode out her climax atop him, her voice echoing her fervor in his ears.

Once she had collapsed onto him, he wrapped his arms around her and swiftly rolled her over onto her back. Positioning himself between her thighs, he began to thrust deeply within her, unaware of anything other than the sensation of her skin against his. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips, bracing herself against him as he continued to drive himself within her frantically. His ecstasy soon reached its bountiful peak, and he lost himself wholly in his moment of release.

They lay together panting, slicked with sweat, and utterly spent. After several long moments, Olberic lifted his head to look into H'aanit's eyes. She lifted a hand and tenderly caressed his face.

"I missed thee, my husband," she confessed softly.

"No more than I missed you," he replied, then gently kissed her lips.

They shifted on the bed to lay side by side facing one another. Running his hand up and down her arm, Olberic smiled, thinking of the day they had parted. What was it H'aanit had said?

"So, now that I have returned, has your fondness for me made your heart burst or no?"

H'aanit chuckled. "I am unsure of that saying. After our reunion, I think perhaps it should be 'absence maketh the loins grow stronger,' or something of the like."

Olberic blinked, and then began to laugh. H'aanit soon joined him. Before long, they both lay laughing helplessly with tears streaming down their faces, unable to stop themselves.

"Oh, H'aanit," Olberic wheezed, "it is so very good to be back with you again."

"I am glad," she replied with a smile. "Though I do hope thou doth not regret having had to taken thy journey."

"I find that I truly do not," he affirmed. "I was afforded with much opportunity for reflection," he told her, "and there are some things I discovered about myself that I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh?" she asked, curious.

He propped himself up on an elbow to look at her face, wondering where to begin.

"Firstly," he said, "I recognized that I was at fault for the rift that formed between me and Philip. Since B'renit's arrival, I realize that I have been neglecting him."

"She is young still, and her needs are many..." H'aanit began.

"Yes, that is true. But Philip is also important to me, and it would behoove me to make a greater effort in the future to give him the attention he deserves. And so I would like to suggest that, once B'renit is old enough to travel, we spend some of our time also living in Cobbleston."

H'aanit considered his words, then nodded. "I believe that could be arranged. After all, it was never my intent to taken thee away from thy home permanently."

"I know that, dearest," he acknowledged. "It was only that B'renit was born here, and so we had no choice but to stay for as long as we have."

H'aanit agreed with his assessment, and added. "I think, perhaps in a few more years, we could consideren spending our winters in Cobbleston, and the summer seasons here. The forest be lovely during the warmer months, but I admit becometh bitterly cold in winter, being so close to the Frostlands."

"That sounds fair," he surmised, "and the spring and fall will be ideal times for traveling."

"Then we aren in agreement," she concluded, smiling. "Pray tellen Philip of our plans in thy next letter to him. He will haven that to look forward to."

"I think I shall do just that." He returned her smile, but then let it fade as he thought of what they must discuss next.

"What is the matter?" his wife asked him, noting his expression.

"There is something else I must tell you," he began. He had been conflicted over whether or not to disclose to H'aanit what had transpired with Cecily. He knew she would not appreciate hearing that another woman had tried to step on her territory, but ultimately, he knew that it would be best to be honest with her. After all, he had nothing to hide.

As he began to explain the events that had occurred in Bolderfall, he saw H'aanit's expression go from interested, to concerned, to seemingly indignant. He hurriedly went on to tell her of how the situation had been resolved, hoping that she could get past her anger given that things had worked themselves out.

He waited for H'aanit to say something. Her expression was inscrutable, but then, finally, he heard her mutter _That strumpet_ under her breath.

"She apologized, dearest," he gently reminded her, "and she truly regretted her actions. I have chosen to forgive her, and I ask that you do the same. It is not like you to hold a grudge."

"And what? Am I to be happy that she attempted to seducen thee?" she demanded testily.

"Of course not," he patiently told her, "and I must remind you that I was not happy about it myself. But it was a mistake, and she understood that. I assure you, she was quite ashamed of her behavior."

"As well she should be," H'aanit declared, crossing her arms. This was not going as well as he would have hoped.

"Dearest..." he encouraged her, "what's done is done. We cannot change what is passed. But we can move forward in the knowledge that what you and I have is real and true. And that nothing can come between us."

Her frown was momentarily broken by a half-smile. She bit her lip, and finally sighed.

"Thou art correct, I suppose," she admitted. "I cannot liken what Cecily did, but there be no point in dwelling on it."

"Thank you, my love," he told her sincerely, kissing her softly.

He took a deep breath before continuing. He wanted to be careful as he transitioned onto his next point, that H'aanit did not misconstrue his meaning.

"There was one thing Cecily said that gave me pause," he began, "about my being a warrior."

He searched H'aanit's eyes, but he did not see her earlier hostility towards Cecily return to them, so he resumed.

"Throughout my journey, I was forced to examine the man that I am now in comparison to the man that I used to be. There are many things in my life that have changed. Some, such as having you and B'renit, are indisputably for the greater." He paused, enjoying the smile she now favored him with, before continuing, "But in some ways, I feel that I may have lost some of who I was."

"How so?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"There was a time when my sword was what defined me," he admitted. "And after I met you, I learned that that was no longer enough. And so, you and I started a family, and it has been the greatest joy I have had in my life." She beamed a smile at him, and he almost feared to continue. Yet, he pressed on.

"But a man cannot live only for the sake of others..." he told her, "There need be some things he does simply for himself." H'aanit blinked, but listened still, waiting.

"Since our daughter's birth, it seems that Philip is not the only person I have neglected. I have also been neglecting myself." Though he had given these ideas much thought during his journey, it felt cathartic to be finally putting them into words. "I am nearing forty years of age," he acknowledged, "and for a man who once fought for a living, I fear I have begun to let myself go."

"Olberic," H'aanit began doubtfully, running a hand over his toned stomach, "thou art as fit as ever, to my eye."

"That is not quite what I mean," he said, "I am speaking rather in terms of my skills. I am not so quick as I once was, nor accurate. I have lost much of my endurance and strength as well. I know that some of these things come with age-"

"Thou art not so old as that," H'aanit was quick to correct him.

"Perhaps," he humored her, "but I also know that my training regime has suffered because I no longer have the time to dedicate to it. Of course, our daughter's needs come first, but all things considered... I should also make time for the things that used to be important to me. That still are."

H'aanit was thoughtful. After a moment, she softly confessed, "I did not knowen thou felt this way."

He shook his head. "I would not expect you to. I did not realize it myself, until recently. During my travels, I saw our friends making such strides within their respective callings, while I seem to have left my sword skills to rust. I admit, that was part of what brought me to this understanding." Something occurred to him, and he looked at her. "In a way, I envy you."

"What dost thou mean?" she inquired uncertainly.

"You are a hunter," he said. "Your home is the forest, and your quarry is always close at hand. When you are called to fight, your opponents are beasts, and the world we live in is full of monstrous creatures.

You have a purpose. Your skills will always be needed. But I am a swordsman. My enemy is man. And in a time of peace, how does a swordsman remain true to himself? How does he put his skills to use? That is what I have begun to ask myself, of late."

He searched her eyes and saw that she was still listening. "You know that when we met, I was also asking myself some of these questions," he admitted. "The answers I found then still hold true. My love for you is as powerful a purpose in my life as ever. I could never go back from being a husband and father. As much as anything, it is now a part of who I am. But it is not _all_ that I am.

I feel as if my life has gone from one extreme to another. Both sides are important to me, and so I believe that to be true to myself, I must meet them somewhere in the middle."

H'aanit looked away for a moment, digesting all that he had told her. Finally, she spoke. "I am glad that thou art telling me this. And I believe I understanden what thou art saying. But I wonder... what wouldst thou propose as a solution?"

Here was the gamble. "I would like to compete in the tournament at Victors Hollow once more."

Her eyes widened. "With Cecily?" she asked pointedly. It seemed she had not forgotten her grievance with the other woman just yet.

"Yes," he admitted, "but I will not be doing it for her. It will be for me."

She looked at him and he could see her mind racing. Finally, she sighed and conceded, "Very well. I can see that 'tis of great importance to thee, and I do not wishen to stand in the way of thy happiness."

"Thank you, my love-" he began.

"However," she interrupted him. "I have a condition. I shalle accompany thee to the tournament."

"But what of B'renit?" he asked. "The arena is no place for a child her age..."

"Master hath returned from the hunt whilst thou wast away," she told him briskly. "She can remainen here with him. Victors Hollow be not so far from S'warkii that we cannot leaven her for a few days. Not if it meaneth that I can keepen an eye on Cecily..."

He made to argue, but then realized it was futile, and her plan was a sound one besides. He told her that he agreed to her suggestion, earning a smirk from her. He knew that they would probably have further disagreements on the topic of Cecily in the future, but he thought that for the moment, they had reached a satisfactory resolution.

"I must thank you, dearest," he said, stroking her cheek, "for supporting me in my efforts to better myself. I appreciate it more than you can know."

She smiled at him lovingly, and made to kiss him, when suddenly there came a brisk knock at the door. "Are you two decent?" they heard Primrose yell from outside. They looked at each other and chuckled, Olberic calling out "Just a moment!" as they rose to find their clothing.


	6. Chapter 6

The coming weeks saw Olberic renew his dedication to his training. He had written to Cecily, informing her that he was now ready to accept her request that he fight as her champion, but the tournament preliminaries would soon begin and he had no time to waste.

In an effort to regain his endurance while still spending time with his family, he had taken to strapping B'renit to his back and going hiking through the woods with her, H'aanit, and Lieven almost every day. They deliberately took the steepest trails, and he could feel the additional strain that the thirty-pound toddler was putting on his muscles. For her part, his daughter seemed to love seeing the world from a taller perspective. Her joyful giggles encouraged him to carry on as much as the promise of the tournament did.

He did much of his sword training at night while B'renit slept, though H'aanit began to encourage him to go out during the day as well, and she and their daughter would sit and watch him as he danced with the blade. B'renit would often yell out in excitement as she watched, delighting in the swift movements and the sunlight reflecting off his sword. Before long, she decided that this was her new favorite activity, and she took to pulling him to the door by the hand with calls for _Papa dance!_ He could not deny her this joy, and she unknowingly became his biggest supporter.

By the time he needed to set out for Victors Hollow to make the preliminaries, he felt as fit as ever, confident that he was back to form. He and H'aanit prepared for their journey, making certain that Z'aanta had everything he needed to see to B'renit's care in their absence. The toddler was inconsolable once she realized her parents were leaving her behind; as they said their goodbyes, she dissolved into tears and clung to them both, crying _Mama!_ and _Papa!_ between her sobs. H'aanit's expression crumbled with sorrow and guilt; this would be the first time she would be apart from their daughter for longer than a few hours, and it was evidently as difficult for her as it had been for Olberic at the beginning of his journey. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders comfortingly, and Z'aanta attempted to divert B'renit's attention by making silly faces at her. The girl stopped crying long enough to regard him with curiosity, and while she was distracted, the two of them slipped away.

Once Olberic was able to convince his wife that their daughter would be fine and that there was no need to worry, she seemed to relax and begin to enjoy the journey. It had been quite long since they had last traveled together, and they took pleasure in the fact that they were able to spend time alone. They spoke of when they had first come to Victors Hollow for the tourney, as newfound traveling companions. H'aanit admitted to him that it had been not long after that time that she had begun to entertain romantic thoughts about him. To her surprise, he confirmed that he had also noticed her in that way around that time as well. They laughed at the coincidence, holding hands as they strode the forest path.

When they finally arrived at the foot of the road leading to their destination, Olberic felt dread at the realization that H'aanit would soon be coming face to face with Cecily. He trusted his wife not to make a scene, but he nonetheless worried about what would happen when the two women finally spoke to one another.

Once they had let themselves a room at the inn and put their belongings away, the two of them made their way to the arena so that Olberic could register for the tournament. His anxiety rose once he recognized Cecily's conspicuous lilac hair and red ribbon among the crowd gathered by the gate. He took H'aanit's hand in his own as they neared the arena.

Cecily smiled as she saw them and she waved, weaving her way towards them through the crowd.

"Olberic! You made it!" she called out as she neared them. Turning towards H'aanit, she put on a wide grin, though there was perhaps a touch of apprehension in her eyes. "It's good to see you, H'aanit," she warmly greeted his wife, "Welcome to Victors Hollow." She boldly extended her hand.

Without hesitation, H'aanit clasped the other woman's hand and graciously answered, "Good day to thee, Cecily. I thank thee for the welcome." She even wore a smile, though Olberic could see a hint of tightness to it.

It took all of Olberic's restraint not to let out a heavy sigh of relief. H'aanit was a woman of honor; he should have known she would not act out of turn despite her misgivings about Cecily.

The younger woman turned to Olberic. "Why don't you get in line for the registration?" Cecily asked. "I believe your wife and I have a few things we need to discuss," she stated plainly.

Olberic was surprised. He admired Cecily's courage, that she would willingly risk a private conversation with the wife of a man she had attempted to seduce... especially when that woman was a fighter of H'aanit's strength and skill.

He looked at his wife questioningly, but she only smiled at him. "I agree, husband," she said, "Goest ahead. I shalle catchen up with thee soon."

"Very well..." he agreed hesitantly. He gave H'aanit's hand a parting squeeze, then stepped away to wait for his turn at the arena gate.

He surreptitiously watched the two of them as they wandered over to stand by the gardens. They leaned against its wrought-iron fence, for all the world seeming to be engaged in a perfectly pleasant conversation. His ears burned to know what was being said.

Finally, they nodded at one another, Cecily heading back towards the town plaza and H'aanit approaching him where he stood near the gate.

His wife wore a small smile as she walked over to him. He took her hand in his once more, and could not help but ask, "And...?"

H'aanit looked at him with a smug expression. "Cecily hath apologized to me for her behavior," she told him. "She acknowledged that she was in the wrong, and stated that she hath no intention of standing between myself and thee. We have comen to an understanding"

"That is good to hear," he confessed, relieved. "Thank you for being so accommodating. Given the circumstances, I know it couldn't have been easy for you not to resort to intimidation."

"Oh, I would not sayen that..." she admitted with a glint in her eye. "I did warnen her that if she so much as thinketh of attempting to enticen thee again, she would soon feelen the point of my arrow through her back." His wife wore a menacing grin as she turned to look back in the direction Cecily had gone. A chill rose up Olberic's spine, and yet, he found H'aanit's fierce possessiveness to be oddly arousing as well. His wife was a formidable woman indeed, and it seemed she was not to be trifled with.

* * *

That evening, after enjoying a late meal at the tavern, Olberic and H'aanit retired to their room at the inn. Olberic was glad to get away from the crowds that he had spent the day amongst; the town was seemingly full to the brim of hot-headed fighters looking to prove themselves in the tournament. He had been recognized, of course. After all, he had won the championship only four years prior, and though he had not since returned to the arena, the Unbending Blade was still well-remembered in Victors Hollow. Indeed, when he had presented himself for registration, there were even a few men who had thought twice about their chances and decided to drop out of the tourney then and there. He supposed he should take it as a point of pride, but then again, he was moreso glad to see those whose eyes glinted at the challenge when they learned he was there to fight. He was hoping to find worthy opponents among the competitors.

As they settled down for the night, he noted H'aanit's expression. She seemed to have been wearing a slight, secretive smile for most of the evening. Wondering what had her so amused, he decided to finally ask.

"'Tis nothing that needen concern thee, husband," she assured him.

"H'aanit," he began skeptically. "You look as if you are up to something."

She laughed. "No... I was only remembering the look that Cecily gaven me when I... shall we sayen... cautioned her against making further advances towards thee."

He sighed. "I wish you hadn't resorted to making threats, my love. I'd rather not have to worry about you getting into trouble while we're here."

"Worry not, my knight," she reassured him with a smile. "My words to Cecily weren not meant as a true warning. I have no intention of harming the girl. I only thought it would be wise to given her a reminder of the possible consequences should she chooseth to go back on her word."

"I see," he pondered. "But if you did not mean what you said, then why are you so amused to think of it?"

H'aanit chuckled. "It was only her _face_ in that moment. Thou shouldst haven seen it!" She let out a laugh, shaking her head. "I did not realizen I have such a... frightening presence."

Olberic pulled her close, his arms circling her waist. "You are imposing by virtue of your skill as a fighter. Any and all would be wise to take heed when you give warning."

"Dost thou suppose I should haven considered entering the tourney myself, then?" she smirked.

Olberic grinned at her. "If you had and we came to face each other in the final battle, then you would surely be declared the winner. I could not bear to lift a finger against you, my love."

She looked at him with laughter in her eyes. "Perhaps thou wouldst simply forfeit because thou fearest to facen me."

He threw his head back and laughed. "And now you have guessed my true intent! I could never hope to stand against such a formidable foe."

His wife's eyes gleamed as she backed him towards the bed. "Coweren before the huntress..." she commanded him, then pushed him onto the mattress.

H'aanit may have alleged that her intimidation of Cecily was just for show, but Olberic had the impression that she must have felt at least somewhat threatened by the other woman, if her possessiveness towards him now was any indication. She was remarkably assertive as they made love, seemingly claiming him as her own through the deed. He gasped at the feel of her fingernails clawing his back, the marks upon his skin surely meant to show who he belonged to. He thought he should perhaps be displeased to be regarded akin to property, but he could not seem to make himself care in the moment. He found it all to be extraordinarily seductive. And in truth, his heart most certainly did belong to H'aanit. He set to proving to her that that was the case.

* * *

The next day marked the beginning of the preliminaries. After he and H'aanit had broken their fast, Olberic began preparing himself for the day ahead. H'aanit joined him as he undertook his stretching routine; though she would not be fighting herself, she offered to accompany him in his preparations as a way of showing support. She helped him by gently pulling on his limbs as he stretched them, applying additional resistance. He did the same for her, and with their hands on one another, who could fault them for occasionally taking the opportunity to caress a thigh or grope a firm backside? They did not take things further than light teasing; Olberic knew that his mind should be on the battles ahead, and not dwelling on comforts of the flesh.

The tournament's preliminary rounds were designed to weed out the serious competitors from the rest. Only eight could go on to the final round, though nearly a hundred hopefuls had registered. By the end of the day, most of them would be disqualified. The last time he had competed, Olberic had entered the finals through different means; a technicality, one might say. He was looking forward to seeing what the preliminaries had in store, but he did not expect to be bested today.

As the first round of battles began, Olberic's suspicions were confirmed; he defeated all the opponents who faced him with ease. He appreciated the exercise nonetheless, as it had been too long since he'd fought with anyone other than in a training capacity. It was invigorating to face adversaries who he knew were not holding back, despite them not offering a satisfying challenge as of yet. He lost himself in the endeavor all the same, and considered these easier battles to be a good warm-up for the more demanding combat he would undertake on the morrow.

He saw evidence for how his reputation had preceded him in the arena as well. His opponents knew who they were facing; some approached the combat with trepidation, others with eagerness, but they all regarded him with respect in their eyes once he had defeated them. He offered words of encouragement to those he had bested, and there were many, particularly the younger ones, who seemed flustered and overcome by his praise. His words were given sincerely; he hoped that they would keep striving to improve themselves as warriors.

By day's end, Olberic had advanced to the ranks of those qualifying for the final round of combat. Despite everything, it had been a long day, and he admitted to himself that he was tired. It would be good to spend the evening relaxing with H'aanit before he put his thoughts towards preparing for the finals. After giving his weary muscles a good long stretch, he set out looking for his wife. He found her near the arena gate waiting for him, a proud smile on her face.

"Thou hast fought well today, husband," she praised him as he approached her. Throughout the day, he had occasionally taken the time to look for her within the crowd seated around the arena, noting her encouraging smile whenever his eyes found her. He took her hand and kissed it.

"Thank you, my love," he answered fondly. "I must admit that I am glad you decided to accompany me to the tournament. It makes it all the more meaningful to me that you are here, offering your support."

"I support thee in all things, my beloved. Never thinken otherwise," she told him, pulling him in for a brief kiss. "Comen," she then encouraged, "leten us find something to eat."

They made their way to the tavern for their meal, and soon found themselves unexpectedly joined by Ned and Cecily. If there was any lingering ill-will between his wife and the young promoter, Olberic was pleased to see that neither of them let it show. Perhaps it was Ned's presence which served as a buffer, or the fact that the conversation revolved exclusively around the tournament, but the four of them spent their meal in pleasant company.

Upon returning to their room at the inn, Olberic was finally able to remove his sweat-soaked clothing and wash off the day's exertions. H'aanit watched him with interest as he stood nude at the washstand, and took the washcloth from him to rinse his back. She then offered him a massage to ease the strain from his muscles after a long day of fighting. He accepted gratefully, and lay down on his stomach upon the bed. He heard a telltale rustle of fabric for a few moments before he felt H'aanit's presence against his skin; evidently, she had decided to undress as well. She sat straddling his backside and began working away at his tense shoulders and neck. Olberic sighed at the pressure; her hands were deft at their task, and she did not shy away from mercilessly pressing into the more stubborn knots. Though she did at times leave him gasping with her relentless kneading, it was pleasant overall, and he felt relaxation wash over him as the tension left his body.

H'aanit's firm stroking eventually turned to sensual caressing, which was then accompanied by kisses all over his back. He knew what she had in mind, and the thought awoke his lust in short order. Turning himself over on the bed, he put his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, taking her mouth in a heated kiss. Though they had not come to Victors Hollow with the intention of it being a romantic getaway, now that they were finding themselves reliably alone, with no fear of their daughter unexpectedly waking during their coupling, Olberic could not help but take full advantage of the opportunity.

Olberic indulged in the feel of H'aanit in his arms, all hard muscle beneath soft skin. He ran a hand down her back, and scooped down to squeeze her behind as firmly as he dared. She giggled against his mouth, then returned to kissing him thoroughly. He tasted her tongue with his own, then sucked on her lower lip, wanting to savor every inch of her with his mouth. Resolutely, he flipped her over so that she lay on her back with himself atop her, then set to tasting her. He sucked gently on her earlobe, then moved on to licking the side of her neck. His mouth caressed just above her collarbone, and she sighed with pleasure.

He kissed down her chest, between her breasts, then enveloped one of them with his mouth, sucking on it fervidly. She let out a sharp cry as he focused his efforts on her nipple with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. Giving the pert peak a final gentle kiss, he moved on to her belly. He traced his mouth along the stretchmarks that pregnancy had left her with, and circled her navel with his tongue. He could feel H'aanit's breath quickening as he neared his final objective. She would need to be patient; he was not finished yet.

He slowly inched his way along the edge of her hip, biting at the softer flesh lightly, and making his way to the top of her thigh. His kissed his way along it, as he pushed her legs apart. He lifted her knee to give himself better access to her soft inner thigh. Trailing wet kisses nearer and nearer to her womanhood, he made certain to always keep a bit of tantalizing distance. H'aanit squirmed on the bed, evidently eager for him to move on to his goal. When he firmly licked at the junction between her pelvis and thigh, she moaned loudly.

"Olberic…" she breathed, "please, my love..." she begged him.

He could not bear to keep her waiting any longer. Reaching between her thighs with his hand, he gently pushed her folds apart, revealing wet, pink skin, the sight of which set his loins ablaze. He bent his head towards her, that he may finally taste her fully.

Olberic slowly ran his tongue along the cleft of H'aanit's womanhood, evoking a soft cry from her as she arched her back. He smiled at her reaction; giving her pleasure was something he never grew tired of doing. He took his time, wanting to draw out her bliss as well as his own enjoyment of her.

He continued his oral exploration, making sure that not an inch of her was neglected. He kissed, licked, and sucked, urged on by her heady scent and impassioned moans. He felt himself growing increasingly firm, but kept his focus on H'aanit's pleasure. There would be time enough to see to his own needs after he was done with rousing her ardor.

As he continued to stimulate her, H'aanit's urgency began to be apparent, and so he concentrated his attention on the erect knot at the apex of her womanhood, circling it with his tongue slowly. Her sharp intake of breath urged him on, and he increased his efforts on the bundle of nerves. He took the nub into his mouth, sucking on it gently, noting H'aanit's passionate cries.

"Mmm!" she moaned as he continued to suckle at her most sensitive area. "Olbe-ric!" she breathed, "I need... mmm!"

Understanding her disjointed request, he increased the pressure of his mouth against her, sucking her harder until she finally came undone. She did not hold back as she cried out her ecstasy, and he felt her tremble against him as his lips released her at last. Hearing her climax made him acutely aware of his own need, his now hardened length evidence of his arousal.

Once she seemed to have begun coming down from her peak, he made sure she was ready for him and then slipped himself between her thighs with a grateful sigh. He took a moment to simply revel in the sensual feeling of being inside her, then began moving within her slowly. He heard her labored breathing as she continued to recover from her climax, and the sight of her lying before him debauched and spent spurred on his efforts.

His lust burned after having brought her so sensuously to ecstasy, and his desire urged him to quicken his pace. Before long he was frenetically thrusting away, oblivious to anything and everything that was not H'aanit. He no longer felt the day's efforts and the tiredness of his body, invigorated by his driving passion. His climax came upon him suddenly, the release overwhelming his senses as he gasped, gripping his wife's shoulders with a broken moan.

Gasping for breath, Olberic rested his forehead upon H'aanit's breast as she tenderly ran a hand through his hair. She sighed contentedly and smiled at him.

"Whatever the outcome of the tourney tomorrow," she began after a moment, absently stroking his shoulder, "I am glad that we maden the journey here. Though I miss B'renit with all my heart, I admit 'tis pleasant to spenden time with thee alone. _Most_ pleasant," she finished with a smirk.

"On that, my dearest, we are most certainly in agreement," he sighed, still catching his breath.

His wife chuckled at his words. She paused, lost in thought for several moments, and eventually ventured, "I have given thought to what thou said about not wishing to neglect thyself. I think, perhaps, we should endeavor to avoiden neglecting our marriage in the future as well."

Olberic pondered her words. "I did not realize you felt that our marriage was suffering..." he began, disheartened.

"Nay, my love, 'tis not that," she reassured him, gazing into his eyes. "'Tis only that being apart from thee, then reunited, and now spending this time away from our home... it occureth to me that we have not taken much time to ourselves, if any, since our daughter's birth. It hath maden me realize how much I treasure such moments. I only think that we should keepen that in mind moving forward, and maken an effort to continue nurturing our relationship as husband and wife."

Olberic smiled at her. "That I can understand," he answered, "and in all honestly I can say that I would like nothing better."

He reached over and kissed her. "Perhaps upon our return, we should ask Z'aanta if he would be willing to take B'renit more often. She could spend a night with him, say, once every week, leaving us with an evening to ourselves, and we could fetch her again the next morning."

"A sound plan," H'aanit agreed. "'Twould allowen her to becomen more accustomed to being away from us, yet it would not be for so long that she needeth miss us too greatly. I believe Master would be amenable, as well. He cherisheth her as strongly as if she wereth his true granddaughter."

Olberic smiled, thinking of his daughter. "It is strange to think of how much our lives have changed since B'renit was born. The responsibilities of parenthood are nearly overwhelming, and I'm not sure that either of us was fully prepared for them, all things told."

His wife nodded her agreement. "I think that none may fully knowen what it be like to raise a child until one is faced with its reality. But I believe it will becomen easier for us to balance everything as she groweth older." H'aanit eyes took on a faraway look, and she smiled. "I cannot wait until she hath grown enough to beginnen learning the use of a bow."

"Aye," Olberic agreed, chuckling. "I look forward to teaching her the sword as well. In a few more years we will have a hero in the making on our hands. Perhaps she will even grow into the most formidable warrior-huntress in Orsterra one day... assuming she is able to surpass her mother's skill in order to claim the title, that is."

H'aanit laughed. "To what end dost thou flatter me?" she asked dubiously. "I already be naked in bed with thee... what more couldst thou wanten?"

"There is truly nothing more I could want, my dearest," he lovingly told her, pushing a strand of hair from her face. "I believe everything is falling into place for us to live our best life together as a family. I truly cannot wait to see what the future holds for us and our daughter." He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her tenderly.

"Although..." he admitted with a glint in his eye, "I suppose I would not be opposed to taking further advantage of your naked presence in my bed." His wife slapped his arm and giggled. He wrapped his arms around her, avidly pressing his mouth to hers. He knew he should be getting as much rest as he could before the finals, but could not help himself when his beloved was in his arms. Perhaps there were more important things than victory.

* * *

The next day when Olberic finally stood upon the sands of the arena with the seven other fighters who had qualified alongside him, he remembered the last time he had been here. He had just begun his journey, and had been unsure of the reason why he chose to live his life by the blade. It was what he was good at, and all he had ever known, but he had felt there must be more to it than simply that. Now, he understood his purpose; first, he had acknowledged that by wielding his sword, he could come to the defense of those in need. Then, he had come to know the joy of family, and learned that protecting their future was his greatest desire. And finally, he had recognized that partaking in the thrill of combat was also a way for him to remain true to himself.

He was many things; a protector, husband, father, and friend. But he was also a warrior. To him, swordplay was more than simply exercise, or a way to defend oneself; it was an artform. As the tourney finals began, each sweep of his blade was a brushstroke upon the canvas of the arena, painting a portrait of a man who knew himself, knew his worth, and knew what he wanted from his life.

Olberic lost himself in the intricacies of battle, each parry, slash, and thrust calculated in less than an instant. Before he knew it, he was crossing swords with his final opponent, and the victor of this fight would be declared champion. He did not feel anxious about the outcome; as with many things, it was the journey, rather than the destination, that was important. For him, the ultimate goal of fighting in the tournament was not the glory of being declared the winner, but rather a means to prove to himself that he could still rise to the challenge. He was already proud of himself for doing so.

He poured all of his focus into the final round of combat. The cheering crowd was muted to a droning buzz in his ears. Only he and his challenger existed in that moment, the clashing of their blades the only sound that mattered. Olberic was steady and methodical in his approach, trusting in his skills and his instincts. His sword flashed through the air with blinding speed, drawing astonished gasps for the onlooking crowd. Before long, his opponent was dropping his weapon, holding his arms up in concession. Recognizing his victory, Olberic stopped, and time seemed to resume, the din of the crowd finally reaching his ears as they excitedly cheered his triumph. He stood panting, finally noting the effort that he had been putting his body through, and the sweat upon his brow. He had done it. He now stood as champion of the tourney for a second time.

Gazing up into the crowd, he searched out H'aanit. When he locked eyes with her, he saw that his wife's smiling face was beaming with pride. His heart swelled at the sight, and the knowledge that he had been able to share this moment with her made it all the more significant. He returned her smile, his love for her reflected in his eyes.

He heard his name being chanted over and over in adoration by the cheering masses. His defeated opponent stood and clasped his arm, congratulating Olberic on his victory. The tournament's announcer then loudly declared that the Unbending Blade was the victor, and the crowd redoubled their ovation.

Amidst all the celebration, only one quiet thought entered Olberic's mind. The accolades didn't matter, neither did the glory or renown. Even the championship itself was, for the most part, irrelevant. The only thing that held importance to him in that moment was the fact that he had set himself a goal, worked towards it, and through his resolve, successfully achieved it. He had realized that his heart had been divided between his identity as a warrior and that of a man dedicated to his family. And now, he felt that he had come one step closer to closing the chasm between his two selves and finding a way to be both; to truly be himself. He knew that moving forward, he and H'aanit would continue to find ways to live as the brave warriors they had been when they first met, as well as being dedicated and loving parents to their cherished daughter.

Olberic sighed softly, truly content. He had done it... but more importantly, he had done it for himself.

_Fin_


End file.
